Page 102 of Savage Blood
I’d been a walking ball of tension and anxiety since returning from the Underworld, but tonight, I could finally breathe—even if it was just for a little while.
Charla’s brown eyes widened at something behind me just as a tiny wave of heat cascaded down my spine. A familiar scent of pine and wintry outdoors swam up my nostrils from the presence forming at my back.
I turned to find Saint, whose hot, searing gaze—like molten steel—traveled down my body and practically caressed my every curve. My crop top and jeans covered most of my skin, but I might as well have been naked.
“You’re here.” I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly dry as a desert.
The edges of his lips twitched. “I’m here.”
“I thought you had to stay in Blackwater Falls for the night.”
He shook his head, tossing those lustrous black strands. “We finished up early, and Avery basically kicked me out of my house.”
“Oh.” Although I shoved my hands into my pockets, I couldn’t stop my feet from moving to the beat of the music.
Saint noticed and closed the tiny space between us. “Don’t stop dancing on my account. In fact, I’d love to join you.”
Before I could respond, he slipped my hands out of my pockets and wrapped them around his neck, his scorching form pressing into mine. My pulse spiked when he grabbed my hips and started moving to the slow rhythm of the booming bass.
My lungs filled with his scent, his taste, and I didn’t pull away when the air around us crackled.
Son of a bitch.
This was a bad idea. But he felt so damn good.
I nibbled on my bottom lip and moved with him, electricity sparking between us. Flames licked at me, and he lowered his head, hot breath teasing my lips. The girls danced beside us, casting curious glances our way.
Guilt swirled through my gut from the urges unfurling inside, like the massive wings of some wild animal just waking from a deep slumber. Claws raked beneath my surface, and the inner beast bared its teeth, longing to burst free and hunt.
And Saint was its prey.
What was wrong with me?
I shouldn’t be dancing with him.
A laugh sounded from the depths of my mind. This was more than dancing. Our clothes were all that separated us from sex. If we lost those…
I choked back a moan as the tingles radiating between my legs had me leaning into him.
“We’re just dancing, Tate,” he murmured, his nose brushing mine.
Bullshit.
Saint’s fingers burned into my flesh as he let them drift to my bare sides and rubbed circles there.
The air caught in my lungs, and my heart raced as desire built in my chest. I couldn’t deny the attraction between us, and the way Saint rolled his hips into mine had moisture pooling between my legs. Saint’s nostrils flared as he scented my arousal.
If I asked him to kiss me, he would.
If I asked him to take me into a dark corner, tear my pants down around my ankles, and fill me with his cock, he would.
No questions asked.
Saint’s gaze followed a trail of sweat leaking down the front of my throat, and before I could stop him, he dipped forward, his tongue gliding across my skin to lick it up. A moan burst out of my mouth, and my fingers dug into his nape. My hips rocked into the bulge in his jeans.
Unable to trust what I’d do, afraid I’d kiss him, I spun and pressed my back into his front. Of course, my traitorous body reacted, rubbing my ass against his erection.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against my throat, his lips remaining on the side without my tattoo. “I can only imagine what your mouth tastes like. And this.”
